ton transfixed by a lance, holding an hour-glass in one hand,
with its legs crossed and a bleeding heart at its feet. The Fox-Hound's
standard, on the contrary, bore a man in a scarlet coat of mail, holding
in his hand a flaming sword on whose point was a skull. The flag of St.
George floated at her mast-head.

Amid the howling of the gale echoed the diabolical beating of drums and
blare of trumpets of the captured band of the King Solomon, to whose
accompaniment the pirates roared an ear-splitting song. So they sailed
into the harbor.

The eleven ships all surrendered at the first shot. Barthelemy assembled
all the captains on the Royal Fortune and gave them a magnificent
banquet, to which, after some little hesitation, they sat down, with the
exception of one man, Fletcher, who positively declared that he would
not sit at the pirates' table to eat and carouse with them. Barthelemy
permitted him to do as he pleased, and he turned his back upon them.

Toward the end of the entertainment, when the wine began to excite them,
Barthelemy became kindly disposed, and told the captains that they could
redeem their ships by paying a ransom of eight pounds of gold dust.

They instantly consented, with the exception of Fletcher who again
refused, saying that he would accept no favors from pirates, and would
not purchase his ship at the cost of his honor; they might do with him
whatever they chose. He spoke like a true Englishman.

Barthelemy instantly gave orders to fire Fletcher's ship and burn her
with her whole cargo.

Asphlant undertook to execute the command, but soon returned to report
that the ship's cargo consisted of eighty negro slaves and, as he did
not know whether one could kindle negroes, he had come to ask what to do
with them.

Barthelemy's eyes flashed with a fiendish delight.

"Negroes?" he asked, grinding his teeth, "Throw them into the sea, they
must learn to swim."

Asphlant did not utter a syllable in reply, but went to execute the
order. The revellers continued their carouse.

From time to time their conversation was interrupted by a blood-curdling
death shriek, which silenced the bacchanalian songs for a moment and
stopped the wine-cup on its way to their lips, but the next instant the
talk was resumed.

The orgy was closed by an illumination furnished by the flames consuming
Fletcher's ship, which lighted the whole harbor.

The negroes were chained together in couples, and the harbor swarmed